The streets were lined with a white cover, snowflakes gently falling into place around tousled, red-faced residents. Down every lane was a neat web of lights, blinking red, green, blue....his eyes followed the twists and turns, down to a gentle-face woman standing beside him. Now that he looked down he could see her hand clasped into his own. "Bobby, are you listening to me?" He blinked momentarily, then nodded. His mother seemed a little less enthusiastic about Christmas-time than his father, who was standing on his other side surveying the scenes with childish appreciation. It wasn't any surprise, his mother was Jewish; father, Catholic; and he was the inbetween who'd been constantly been adapting from one to the other. No less, it was Christmas-time in the city and they were now just rounding on Radio City Music Hall...
His chilled breath wavered through the air, it was now evident that since he'd come back to his senses, it was so cold. Numbly he followed his mother's direction, her hand tightly clenching his in the mass confusion around the theater. He stopped. Eyes pitifully squinting as though it might do him any good to keep in some heat...
"Bobby?! Bobby, what's the matter...?" It was difficult to remain standing, he flinched slightly and fell to the street in a quivering ball. His mother was the first upon him, being so close, she'd slipped off her glove and went to feel his forehead...fevers ran high, better make sure. A slightly cracking sound was followed by screams, opening his eyes Bobby could see his mother's outline frozen solid. Her mouth hung open, eyes wide; she probably didn't even realize what had happened. Bobby squirmed backward, eyes lit with terror, but without voice. A hand seized him by his scarf from behind and threw his shaking frame into a lightpost. It was only seconds before he could identify the face as his father's, and one a few more after before a mob had advanced in on him.
Back in his own bed, though not typically warm as most might've been, Bobby flipped around violently. His invisible attackers seemed to be getting the better of him before all his comotion had set a book upon the shelf nearby off its resting place and it landed on Bobby's stomach. He jerked up and flung the book away, it smashed helplessly against the wall. Bobby had fallen back into the covers of his bed, shivering from a cold draft that was blowing in his open window. He rised to his feet and draped the blanket around himself, proceeding out the door in search of a little comfort from the freezer's array of icecream.